


Snowed In

by Fallencellist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Snowed In, cute fluff, young Fiddleford, young Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallencellist/pseuds/Fallencellist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford never took time to really know his assistant, but after a day of hard science they are snowed in the shack. It's the perfect time to get to know each other until the snow melts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowed In

“Come on Fidds,” Stanford smiled at his assistant, watching as his eyes never left the snow on covering the ground, “Haven't you ever seen snow before?” The other shook his head quickly, and as he spoke his words came out in a quick jumbled mess, “I have seen it before, but never this much. I mean yeah I've heard of blizzards and snow drifts but I haven't reckon I've seen them in person. It looks really cold and hard to travel in, how am I going to skedaddle back on to my place in this weather?” Fiddleford grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him, “How?” panic running wild in his voice. 

“Fidds!” Ford grabbed the assistant by his shoulders holding him steady, “Breathe. You need oxygen for your cells to go through the tricarboxylic acid cycle!” 

“Right,” he breathed in heavy, held the breath for a few seconds then let it out in a heavy sigh, “Alright,” he nodded looking back to his friend, “I think I am better now.” With a nod in response Ford had to hide another smile, “From what I, ummm, gathered from what I understood of your speech going five times faster than the normal speech of a person, it's going to be difficult for you to get home.” 

“I should start out then,” Fiddleford hummed, taking off the lab coat that was stained with a blue liquid, most likely not blueberry juice. Setting it down he moved towards the door, only to be stopped by a six fingered hand on his shoulder, “Wait Fidds.” Stanford had a way to make the poor southerner's heart jump when he called him 'Fidds.' It was an old nickname of his wife and his mother at a young age, and now Stanford took the torch of calling him that. 

“It's... it's too dangerous to go out driving in the snow like that, you may get injured,” Ford's mouth curved into a frown, re-positioning himself so he was facing his assistant, “It may be best if you stay here for the night or at least until the storm lets up.” 

“Really?” Fiddleford glanced to the ground a small smile on his face, failing to keep it hidden, “What about your 'friend?' Would he be objective to it or, do something?” Ford laughed, shaking his head, “I told him I wanted today to myself, of course getting a response along the lines of 'you won't be alone' but I ignored it.” He paused, tapping a finger against his chin, “Though maybe he was right,” then shrugged, “But I don't mind having you over for the night, we can talk for a bit.” 

“As scientists?” Fiddleford adjusted the tie around his neck, loosening it up a bit from what felt like a choke hold. 

“As friends,” Ford smiled. 

“I did not know you had a son!” Ford blinked in surprise after Fiddleford finished up his story about the time his son caught a huge fish in what he believed to be an empty lake, “Yup,” Fiddleford grinned, pulling out a small picture from his wallet. In the photo was Fiddleford himself and then a young boy with a similar skin tone and the same brown hair covering his eyes, “He looks a lot like you.” Ford smiled taking in the detail of the picture. 

“He's got his mother's eyes,” Fidds sighed, replacing the picture back into the folds of his wallet, “Tate's with his mother right now, but hopefully soon I can get him to come here and spend a bit of time here with me, enjoy the scenery and perhaps go fishing.” Ford frowned slightly, worrying a bit for the boy, Gravity Falls wasn't exactly a place for those unfamiliar with the supernatural or one who wasn't trained to deal with it, he was in fact surprised Fidds was taking to it as well as he had being such a protected sweet southerner and all, “Perhaps when we have more of an understanding of the town and the anomalies.” 

“And when there isn't snow and ice,” Fiddleford chuckled, getting a small laugh from Ford, “Yeah that too.” Standing up Fidds held out his hand, “Want another cup of coffee?” Nodding, Fidds took the cup from Ford and went to the kitchen. Ford let out a sigh, letting some of his emotions show through: he was quite enjoying the time, talking with Fiddleford as a friend rather than colleagues. It had been years since he had even talked to his old friends back in Glass Beach, New Jersey, or even his family. 

A card caught his attention, noticing that it was Fiddleford's drivers license. Picking it up he observed the details on it. Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Ford had to admit that was one heck of a name. What really caught his attention was the date, “Fidds!” He shouted aloud much to his dismay. The thinner man bolted in the room, droplets of coffee falling from the two mugs onto the wood floors, “What is it Stanford?” 

“Ummm...” Ford's face began to change to a slight shade of red, clearing his throat and talking in a barely audible level, “You didn't tell me it was your birthday.” Fidds face turned red in response, “Damn it, you and your wonderful hearing,” Ford cursed to himself, standing up from the chair, “Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?” 

“Well, last time I tried to celebrate a birthday, which was yours, you got unhappy and reclusive, so after some deducing and testing, I figured you really didn't like birthdays, and I didn't think much of it,” the assistant shrugged, setting down Ford's cup on the side of the coffee table near him. 

“Didn't think much of it?” Ford frowned, walking over to Fidds, “Fidds, I don't want you to change things just because of me. If I would have known I would have gotten you something.” 

“Ah, you won't have to,” Fiddleford looked to the side, trying to hide the blush creeping over his face. Ford smiled, placing a hand on the blushing cheeks of the other, moving his face so they were staring into each other's eyes, “But I want to Fidds.” The smile soon crept onto Fiddleford's face, the two spending silent moments staring into each others eyes. 

Finally, it was Ford who made the move, leaning in, their lips meeting. Ford slowly closed his eyes, his sixth finger gently rubbing across Fidd's jawline. Soon, Fiddleford's eyes closed as well, leaning into the kiss, resting his hands on Ford's hips. They stood that way for what felt like an eternity, finally pulling away when their lungs begged for air, the two gasping, their faces filled with fluster and nearly as red as the sweater Ford was wearing. 

“I...” Fiddleford tried to speak out, his brain working fiercely to form a full sentence, “I... I.” He paused, glancing back to Ford, “Oh, what the hay!” He grabbed Ford's shoulders pulling him into another kiss, this time lasting for a fraction of the time, but they kept close, their bodies pressed against each other. 

“Happy birthday Fidds.” Ford smiled, wrapping his arms around the other.


End file.
